RETURN TO TRADITION

Anne Le left her high-tech marketing job to open a restaurant in Palo Alto inspired by her parents' business. Chris and Peter Ho quit corporate jobs in New York to follow in their uncle's footsteps and start a dry cleaning business in Sunnyvale.

They were bred to achieve what their parents could not. But even with college degrees and professional careers under their belts, these children of Asian immigrants are returning to the same niche businesses their families entered into as a first stop in America.

And in doing that, they are challenging a long-held economic model for upward mobility among immigrants and redefining traditional notions of success.

``I felt that what I was doing wasn't for me because the company didn't belong to me,'' said Le, who worked at Silicon Valley firms Netfish and Securify after earning a bachelor's degree in history from Santa Clara University. ``Now I am so much happier every morning, knowing that I am going to a place that is mine.''

It's not that Le, 28, didn't enjoy the perks of working at the fast-paced start-ups. She frequently traveled to Hong Kong and New York on business. She once orchestrated an elaborate marketing campaign -- complete with a marching band in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

But ultimately, Le longed for something of her own.

Last year, she and an aunt opened Tamarine, an upscale nouveau Vietnamese restaurant.

``It's a new wrinkle for Asian-American kids who are dealing with the reality of employment in the mainstream and at the same time seeing opportunity in the small businesses they've been raised in,'' said Don Nakanishi, director of the Asian American Studies Center at the University of California-Los Angeles.

In a way, Le and others are returning to tradition. Used to be, owners of businesses like the tofu and mochi shops in San Jose's Japantown expected their children to take over. Those attitudes have changed in recent decades, with family businesses viewed as a launching pad for immigrants to afford their children better opportunities.

That's what concerned Anthony Le when his daughter, Anne, told him of her plans.

Anthony Le and his wife, Nanh, envisioned a clear path for their three children. They would take white-collar jobs, and education would be the key to their success. The couple, who fled Vietnam in 1976, purposely gave their children Westernized names beginning with the letter `A' -- Anne, Angeline and Andrew.

``I wanted their teachers to always call on them first,'' said Le, who helps run the family's three Vung Tau restaurants in San Jose, Milpitas and Union City.

Le, 51, didn't want Anne to work 12-hour days as he and his wife have since they opened their first restaurant in 1984. He was proud when his daughter -- who was 2 years old when the family arrived in the United States -- graduated from college. And even prouder when she began working at high-tech companies.

``I wanted Anne to be better than me,'' Le said.

But he also trusted her judgment and wanted to support her. He's introduced her to Vung Tau's food suppliers. Nanh often stops by to suggest a deeper tangerine flavor for meat or more basil for the fish.

``Slowly, parents are realizing that going to the top universities doesn't necessarily guarantee anything,'' said Edward Chang, a professor of ethnic studies at the University of California-Riverside. ``And they are starting to see that there should be more options and choices for the second generation.''

It's difficult to say just how many Asian-Americans such as Le are entering ethnic niche businesses. But there are scattered examples of the trend around the Bay Area.

Membership at the Korean Dry Cleaners Association of Northern California is up about 20 percent to 1,200 from three years ago. And about one-third of the new members were raised in the United States and have college degrees and years of professional working experience, according to its president, Jin Lee.

Vietnamese American Chamber of Commerce President H.G. Nguyen said she's seen more children use the savvy they've acquired in large corporations to modernize and expand their family businesses in recent years.

Still, some feel a strong need to leave family businesses behind. In a recent UCLA study, three out of four Asian-American students surveyed said that their parents wouldn't encourage their children to take over their businesses. And only 4 percent of them said they plan to do so after graduation.

Chris and Peter Ho had comfortable salaries in their banking and marketing jobs in New York. Chris Ho was rapidly rising through the ranks of the Bank of Tokyo. She shared $2,000 bottles of wine with clients and was shuttled in limousines between meetings.

But the couple worked long hours, often leaving home when their two daughters were asleep and coming back when they were down again for the night. Then it dawned on them that they were fulfilling career goals at the price of time with their children.

Peter Ho remembers his then 3-month-old younger daughter bursting into tears one day as they approached her day care center.

``I also started to cry because I knew she wanted to be with us and that it just wasn't possible,'' said Ho, 45.

The San Francisco State University graduates returned to the Bay Area in 1997 and opened their dry cleaning business, a prominent venture among Korean-Americans.

Today, Chris Ho works only four hours a day and the couple are making more money than they did in their white-collar jobs. She gets to spend more time in her role as mom, picking up their younger daughter from middle school every day and shuttling her between meetings with friends and church youth group on Fridays.

But Peter Ho still works long hours. He arrives at the dry cleaners at 6 a.m. and leaves at 8 p.m. And though his parents supported his decision, Ho wouldn't want his daughters to take over the family business.

``It's hot and smelly in the summer and you have to deal with people's filthy clothing,'' he said. ``She'll have more opportunities than me.''